


More Bad Than Good fics

by Vinnocent



Series: Heroes and Wolves [19]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Chases, Gun Violence, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Personality Swap, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: As Scott and his friends continue trying to find and trap Malia Tate, they're surprised to find outsiders from NATO also joining the fray. Meanwhile, Allison's personality begins to change for the worse...
Series: Heroes and Wolves [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/117640
Kudos: 3





	1. Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> These are old fics being moved here from Tumblr. I am not currently writing new fic.

Screams rang out through the basement of the old cabin, accompanied by the crackle of electricity. The old, cracked floor did little to muffle the sound, but the governor doubted that it was intended to. “You sure you still want them?” Araya asked cheekily. “They’re a bit damaged.”

“They’ll recover,” Eva said calmly. She pulled out a pad and wrote a number on it. “This should cover release _and_ safety from recapture.”

“You starting a new pack?” Araya asked suspiciously.

“Of course not,” Eva assured her. “I’m only looking out for my fellow omegas. They haven’t hurt anyone.”

“Blue eyes says otherwise.”

“That’s accounted for, and you know it,” said Eva. She slid the paper across the table. “That’s what I’m offering.”

Araya pulled up the paper to glance at it. She nodded and set it down again. “Alright,” she said. “ _If_.”

Eva glared. “If?” she repeated.

“If you or they tell me what has happened to La Loba,” Araya sneered. “Until I get my information…” She slid the paper back across the table. “They’re not for sale.”

Eva leaned across the table and sneered, “Do you really think that if the Hales knew about La Loba that she’d be anything other than a corpse left on the Argents’ porch? After everything she’s done?”

Araya laughed at Eva’s posturing. “You’d be surprised what tiny clues one can conjure under duress,” she said.

“They don’t even know who you’re asking for,” Eva snapped.

“They’ll figure it out,” Araya assured her.

With a huff, Eva sat back down. “What about just the yellow-eyed girl?”

“Sure,” Araya agreed. “Soon as I get my information.”

Eva groaned and leaned back in the chair. “Her mother is back. I can give you their address. Where her father is being kept. But I doubt she’d go to them. She’s gonna want help. She can’t get that from Hales _or_ Argents.”

Araya shrugged. “Perhaps,” she suggested, “I should again make my point about _duress_.”

Eva laughed. “You’re going to torture the governor of California? Sure. I bet that’ll work out real well for you.” She leaned forward again, propping her chin on her hand with a clever smile. “You can’t even keep two Hales.”

It was then that Araya realized that the screams from downstairs had changed. Glaring suspiciously at Eva, she motioned for the trapdoor to be opened. She hurried down the stairs to find her own men shackled to the chain link wall, electricity coursing through them just high enough to prevent resistance.

“If I were you,” Eva called from above, “I’d take the money.”

– –

“You’re _sure_ it was Malia?” Sheriff Stilinski asked once he got to the police station. He leaned against Jordan’s desk while she sat behind it with her head pressed to the surface and her arms folded over her head. It had begun as an expression of exasperation, but Scott suspected she might have fallen asleep.

“Absolutely,” he told the sheriff. “Well… I mean… It could be a different werecoyote? But it’s definitely a person. And she seemed to respond to ‘Malia’ so…”

“But she won’t change back?” said the sheriff.

“It’s been eight years,” Boyd pointed out. “She’s probably _really_ confused.”

The sheriff turned to his son. “Why didn’t you tell me werecoyotes were a thing?” he demanded.

Stiles shrugged. “I didn’t know they were.”

Stilinski turned back to Jordan. “Berenson? What do you think?” When he received no answer, he leaned over and tapped her on the shoulder. “Berenson?”

Jordan raised her head blearily. “Huh?” She glanced around at the five teenagers and one sheriff in her office. “Shit, it wasn’t a dream.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Have you ever heard of a werecoyote before?” he asked.

“No,” she said plainly. Exhausted, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. Given that, according to you, Jackson Whittemore became a lizard-man when kanimas are traditionally felinid, and the fact that kanimas arise from the same circumstances as werewolves… This… disease, disorder, affliction… whatever it is, it seems to have unstable results, picking from a range of animals for any reason.”

“How does that make sense?” asked the sheriff.

“Oh, it doesn’t,” she told him. “Absolutely no sense at all. This is Earth, Sheriff. Everything’s made up, and the points don’t matter.”

The sheriff scowled at that. “Well, she’s gone now,” said the sheriff. “If she feels targeted, she’s probably not going to travel in the same areas again.”

“Uh, not necessarily,” Stiles said quickly. He stood up and pulled his phone from his pocket. After a few swipes, he handed it over to his dad. “Isaac and Boyd weren’t confident in their abilities to jump enormous ravines, and I’m not an idiot–“

“You sure?” Jordan countered.

Stiles ignored her. “So we started looking around on the other side, and we found that.”

The sheriff looked at the picture. It was a small animal den, but it had Malia’s jacket and a few stuffed animals. He handed the phone over to Jordan to look at. “A coyote den?” he asked.

“Looks like it could be Malia’s,” Jordan agreed. She glanced up to Stiles. “Can you tell us where this?”

“Yeah, I, uh, saved it. On the GPS,” Stiles said.

Jordan nodded. “Did you go in and touch everything and get your scent everywhere?”

Stiles’s mouth fell open. “Uh…”

“Wh-why?” stuttered Isaac.

Jordan sighed and stood up. She moved around the desk to face the boys directly. “Because real coyotes won’t go anywhere wolves have been,” she explained. “Including their own home.” She shrugged and handed Stiles his phone back. “I have no idea if it’s the same for Malia, but it would be better if you tracked her from a distance from no on. And work _with_ us. Don’t wait until you have her in your hands to dump her on us unprepared.”

The teens all nodded solemnly.

“I think we should still look at the den,” said the sheriff. “If she’s not returning anyway, then at least we might be able to get some clue there.”

Jordan nodded. “I agree,” she said. “When we get back, I’ll report it and see if the research team can dig up any helpful info from the archives.”

“Um, also,” Scott said quietly, lifting his hand shyly. “Also Marco has a mole morph. Maybe Cassie, too. I think I remember that they can smell really well? And a coyote won’t be afraid of them.”

Jordan and the sheriff exchanged glances. Jordan sighed and shrugged. “I’ll talk to Cassie later.” She pointed at the teens. “For now, you all need to go home.”

– –

_Several minutes earlier…_

<Hey,> a voice spoke directly into Derek and Cora’s minds. <Do me a favor and keep screaming. I’m about to save your asses, and I need the boss lady upstairs to not notice.>

Derek and Cora exchanged glances. And then they saw it. Behind the young man guarding them, sitting relaxed with his shotgun maybe a yard or so behind the older guy controlling the electricity and taunting them, a massive snake started to lower from the support beams overhead. It was probably about twenty feet long.

Two coils dripped down from the ceiling just above his head. When just above him, she dropped the coils suddenly around his neck and mouth. His eyes went wide and he flailed briefly before falling quickly unconscious.

The snake released him and returned to the rafters. It moved steadily along the ceiling until it was right over the older man.

And then, he moved. He came toward Derek and Cora, and the snake dropped to the floor behind him. “This equipment is very old,” he told them as they writhed and screamed under the electric shocks. Behind him, the snake seemed to convulse and move unnaturally. Derek realized that it was shortening and losing its scales. “The settings aren’t quite there anymore, so I hope I got the dial right.”

“It could be higher,” Cora snarled. “I’m not really comfortable, yet.”

The man laughed at that and continued not to notice as the snake grew limbs and hair. Derek was unable to suppress an expression of disgust but, luckily, that expression wasn’t out of place in their situation.

“Tell you what,” he told Cora. “You tell me where La Loba is, and I’ll turn it however you want. Hell, I’ll even turn it o– CKK!”

It was at that point, of course, that a still serpentine Loren wrapped her arm around his throat and her hand over his mouth and nose. She pulled him backward until he fell still, then dropped him to the floor. “Keep screaming,” she warned Derek and Cora. She then walked over to the machine and turned it off. There was a moment of relief before they remembered her instructions and began screaming again.

Loren rolled her eyes. “Amateurs,” she groaned. She went over to them and released them from their shackles. “Keep it up, and help me get them in place.” Though it was strange, trying to fake screams of pain while hauling unconscious men across the floor, the werewolves were soon holding the men in place against the chain link wall while Loren shackled them in.

Loren returned to the machine. “You can stop now,” she said, just before turning it on. The men were rudely awaken by the pain coursing through their bodies. She smirked at them, then turned to Derek and Cora. “Alright, we’re gonna leave now. Very quiet and sneaky-like. But be ready for a fight.”

Cora shook her head. “No,” she said.

“No?” Loren repeated mockingly.

“We’re not leaving without it,” Derek said.

Loren smirked again. “It?” she repeated. She walked back to the area where the snake had first appeared and hopped up to hit a board. The cylindrical box fell right into her awaiting hand. “You mean this?” she asked.

Derek reached for it, but Loren laughed and held it back. “Sorry, sweetie. But Vela paid for me to free you,” she said. “You’re gonna have to pay for this. And to do that, you need to get back home. So let’s go.”


	2. Canis latrans, pt 1

“Here’s where we found the den,” Stiles said, showing the GPS map to Allison before class started. “It’s right in the middle of the hiking trails.”

“Well, that could narrow it down,” said Allison. “Coyotes like to travel on fixed trails. _But_ I think you’re right about it not going back to the den. Coyotes don’t like wolves.”

“I think she’s pretty smart, too,” Scott said. “I mean, she escaped the cage at the sheriff’s station.”

Allison shrugged. “Coyotes are only animals. Little tiny baby brains,” she said gesturing the relative size.

Stiles and Scott stared at her. “But… This isn’t _really_ a coyote,” Stiles insisted, darting a glance around. “I mean, you heard us say that, right? That this is Malia Tate?”

“Yeah?” said Allison. The bell rang. “I gotta go, but send me the pinned location.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. As Allison left, Stiles followed her to his seat.

As Scott made his way to his seat, Kira Yukimura suddenly appeared in front of him. “H-hey!” she greeted him cheerfully. “I’m Kira!” Then, wincing, she said, “You knew that.” Which was followed by, “I knew you knew that,” and “I don’t know why I just told you that again.”

Scott grinned back at her, but found himself with her abundance of words.

“Anyway, I have something for you,” she told him as she began to pull off her backpack.

“For me?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said. She began searching through her backpack. “A-about the bardo? My explanation was sort of all over the place. So, I did some research, and I printed it out for you.”

Scott rubbed his neck nervously. “Well, you didn’t have to do that,” he told her.

She glanced up from the spelunking of her backpack to assure him, “Oh, it only took a couple of hours.”

Scott’s eyes widened, and his hands dropped to his side. “Wow,” he said. “Then, you _really_ didn’t have to do that.”

“I swear I printed it out,” she moaned.

“Kira!” Mr. Yukimura called from the head of the class. She turned as he approached with a thick stack of papers held out to her. “You forgot all that research you did for that boy you like.”

Mortified, Kira slowly took the papers from him. He smiled and returned to his desk. She slowly turned and handed them over to Scott, having difficulty looking up at him again. When she did, she saw a massive, adoring grin. She quickly found her seat.

“Alright everyone,” Mr. Yukimura said from the front of the room. “Let’s get started. We were just talking about internment camps and prisoners of war. There’s a passage in our reading that I would like to go over in more detail.” He set his textbook up on the podium. “Who would like to come up and read for us?” When no one volunteered, he spied Stiles’s avoidant posture and called on him. “Mr. Stilinski! How ‘bout you?”

Stiles’s eyes slowly widened in horror. “O-oh, um… Maybe… Maybe someone else could?”

“Everyone participates in my class, Mr. Stilinski,” said Mr. Yukimura.

“Okay,” Stiles muttered. He eased out of his seat and made his way to the podium. As he stood before the teacher’s book, however, the image began to blur. He squeezed his eyes shut. His grip tightened on the sides of the podium. He looked again. The letters seemed to melt and fall off the page. He felt dizzy, overwhelmed. He began to waver slightly.

Scott heard Stiles’s thundering heart and glanced up. Recognizing the beginnings of another panic attack, Scott began to stand. “Stiles, are you okay?” he asked. When Stiles didn’t answer, instead almost falling over before he grabbed the podium again to steady himself, Scott hurried forward and grabbed his friend. “Um, I should take him to the nurse’s office?” he offered Mr. Yukimura.

Confused, Mr. Yukimura nodded. The class watched as Scott hurriedly pulled Stiles out.

Kira raised her hand. “Um, Dad?” she said. “I don’t think you should call on him anymore.”

“Uh… yes,” said Mr. Yukimura. “I’ll be sure to apologize later. Um… I suppose… _I’ll_ read this passage.”

In the boys’ room, Stiles was clung to the sink for support, chanting to himself, “It’s a dream. This is just a dream.”

“No, it’s not!” Scott insisted. “This is real! You’re here! You’re here with me!” Unfortunately, Stiles kept hyperventilating over the bathroom sink. “Okay, um… What do you do? I mean how do you tell that this is– Whether you’re awake or dreaming?”

Stiles racked his brain, trying to grab at any piece of information he could reach through the wave of panic. “Finger,” he said. “You count your fingers. You have extra fingers in dreams.” He bent back over the sink like he thought he was going to throw up.

Scott lifted his hand, holding one finger. “Okay, how many do I have?” he asked. When Stiles didn’t respond, he increased his volume. “Hey! Look at me! Come on, Stiles! Look at my hands and count with me!”

Reluctantly, Stiles pulled back to face Scott. Scott still had that one finger held up. “One,” said Scott.

Stiles watched Scott’s hand. When Scott raised another finger, Stiles said, “Two?” But another finger, and his vision blurred again.

“Keep going!” Scott urged.

Stiles looked up, forced himself to focus. “Three,” he counted. Scott raised another finger. “Four.”

Finally, Scott extended his thumb. “Five,” said Scott. He held out the thumb of his other hand.

“Six,” said Stiles. Scott extended another finger. “Seven.”

Another finger, and Scott counted, “Eight,” just to make sure Stiles was staying with him. He extended another.

“Nine,” said Stiles. Scott extended his last finger. “Ten.” Stiles looked over both of Scott’s hands. “Ten. Ten?”

Scott nodded. “Ten,” he assured him.

Stiles continued looking over them, counting over them again. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. He didn’t understand. If he was awake, how come he couldn’t read the book? But he was awake. There was no denying that. The finger trick had always worked before.

Stiles forced himself to embrace the mere fact that he was awake, and he finally leaned back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, sliding down to the floor. Scott crouched, concerned, in front of him. “What the hell is happening to me?” Stiles demanded.

“We’ll figure it out,” Scott assured him. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Am I?” Stiles asked. “Are you? Scott, you still won’t transform. Allison’s being haunted by her dead aunt. And I’m straight up losing my mind. Your dad and I are gonna have bunk beds at Eichen House; that’s how bad it is.” He shook his head. “We can’t do this. We can’t. We can’t help Malia. We can’t help my dad. We can’t help anyone.”

Scott moved from his crouch to sit next to Stiles. “We can try,” he said. “We can always try.” He pulled Stiles close, and Stiles wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed his nose into Scott’s neck and continued to not really believe him at all.

Back in the History classroom, the bell had rung, and Kira realized that Scott and Stiles’s bags were still left at their desks. She hurriedly tucked their notebooks and papers back inside, then picked them up to take them to the nurse’s office. Hurrying out toward the nurse’s office, she ran face-first into a man in a slate-blue battle uniform.

“Oh my gosh!” she gasped. “I-I-I’m so sorry!”

The man smiled down at her. He was white, very tall, dark-haired, and handsome in a common sort of way. “No problem,” he said, stepping aside. She started to continued on, but then he interrupted her. “Actually,” he said, and she turned back to him. “Have you seen anything… odd today?”

She squinted at him. “You mean, besides the army being at school today?” she said.

He smirked. “Air Force, actually. Though, Army’s here, too,” he told her. He pointed to the backpacks she was carrying. “May I ask why you’re carrying three bags?”

“Two boys got sick in class,” she explained quickly, nodding toward the room she’d just come from. “They left their bags, so I’m taking them to the nurse’s office. You can ask my dad.” She nodded again to the room.

“Your dad’s the teacher?” he asked, and she nodded. “He must be happy to have such a thoughtful daughter.” He gestured for her to continue on. “You’re dismissed.”

She looked confused for a second, then nodded and ran off. He pulled the radio out of his pocket. “Alces Alces, this is Tigris Altaica. Come in.”

A voice on the radio responded, “This is Alces Alces. Go ahead.”

The man in the uniform looked over the crowd of teenagers, most of whom were trying very hard not to look at him. “This is Tigris Altaica. Area is clear. En route to your location. Over.”

A voice on the radio responded, “This is Alces Alces. Roger. Out.”

Meanwhile, Kira stopped in her tracks on the way to the nurse’s office, stopped by the sight of a coyote waiting in the hall ahead of her. She watched it with wide eyes, waiting for some sort of sign as to what she was supposed to do.

It snarled viciously at her.

“Oh my god!” she gasped. She turned tail and ran, just as it came running toward her. She dropped her and Scott’s backpacks and pushed into the nearest door– The boys’ locker room. As she slammed the door shut, she dropped Stiles’s backpack before running out to the last row of lockers. She slammed herself against them and crouched there on the floor, terrified.

She heard the glass on the door break. The soft padding of paws. And then… nothing. She waited. She thought she could hear it breathing, but it was hard to tell over her own rapid breaths.

Then, suddenly, right behind her, she heard it snarl again in anger! She turned to look, and it snapped at her. She cried as she turned back but tried her best to stay silent. Quietly, she raised to her feet and began to walk steadily backward, keeping an eye on the corner where she knew the coyote was crouching.

Someone grabbed her! She spun to face Scott, who pulled her back, away from the lockers. With one hand, he reached out and knocked the lockers over. The rows fell like dominos.

They heard the snarling but, looking around couldn’t see where it went. Suddenly, the door burst open and slammed shut again. Another man, this one in Army Combat Uniform, had come in and immediately caught sight of them. “You two! Against the wall!” he ordered, and, confused and scared, Scott pulled Kira back against the last row of lockers against the wall. The man leaned against the door, blocking the broken window. His nostrils flared momentarily, then he demanded, “Is there another door out of here?”

Scott pointed past the showers, out of view. “Fire exit,” he said. He pointed to the opposite wall, past the lockers. “And Coach’s office.”

The man swore under his breath and glanced back through the broken window as he pulled a radio out of his pocket. “Tigris Altaica, this is Alces Alces. Target lost. Get here faster. Over.”

“This is Tigris Altaica,” a masculine voice replied over the radio. The same voice of the man Kira had run into earlier. “Wilco. Out.”

The man in the army uniform clicked his radio again. “Porosus Beta, this is Alces Alces. Come in.”

“This is Porosus Beta,” an accented feminine voice replied. “Go ahead.”

“This is Alces Alces. Report your location. Over.”

“This is Porosus Beta,” an accented feminine voice replied. “En route from athl– Athletics field! Target sighted! Out!”

The man swore. He punched the button on his radio again. “Tigris Altaica, this is Alces Alces. Meet Porosus Beta. Over.”

“This is Tigris Altaica. Wilco. Out.”

The man shoved his radio into his pocket and ran out past Scott and Kira to the fire exit, pausing only briefly before ordering them to stay exactly where they were. Nervously, they eyed each other. “Should we?” Kira asked, unsure.

Scott grimaced. “I don’t like it, but I don’t want to get in trouble with the army.”

“Yeah,” Kira agreed. “But… we’ll totally run if we see that coyote, right?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” he agreed quickly. He glanced at her, then, carefully, he interlaced his fingers with hers. She smiled up at him.

Eventually, the man in the blue uniform came back in through the exterior exit. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. “Didn’t you run into me in the hall?” he asked.

Kira blushed. “Um, yes, sorry,” she said.

He extended a hand to her. “Senior Airman Berenson, US Air Force,” he said. When she finally, nervously, shook it, he smiled kindly at her. “Can I ask your name?”

Kira blushed, feeling like she was probably in trouble. “Kira Yukimura,” she told him.

Berenson turned to Scott, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “And you?” he asked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he found something suspicious about the boy.

“S-S-Scott,” Scott answered. “Scott… McCall.”

There was a brief pause, then Berenson nodded stiffly. “Alright,” he said. He turned and gestured to the horizontal lockers and the broken window. “You know about this?”

Kira nodded enthusiastically. “There was a coyote in the hallway,” she said. “I ran in here and–“ The bell rang, and Kira made a pained noise. “Oh, I’m in so much trouble.”

Berenson laughed. “It’s okay,” he assured her with a bright smile. “I’ll make sure you’re excused.” He looked over both of them. “Now, what happened when–”

At that moment, the Asian man with a bad haircut in the army uniform returned with a Near Eastern woman with a short bob in a plain, black utility uniform. All three had badges signifying who they were working for, but Scott didn’t recognize them. It was then that Scott noticed that under each jacket, he saw identical skin-tight shirts resembling what Cassie had worn to the Glen Capri. All three also had their dogtags tucked under their shirts. “Anything?” asked the man.

Berenson rolled his eyes. “I _just_ started talking to them,” he said. He gestured to each in turn. “This is Scott McCall and Kira Yukimura.”

The man extended a hand. “Sergeant Santorelli, US Army,” he said, and he shook Scott’s hand and then Kira’s. Almost immediately, he turned away from them and pulled out his phone.

The woman seemed a bit nervous, but also introduced herself, “Agente Gerard, DGSE.” She did not shake their hands.

“Uh… If you don’t mind my asking,” said Scott. He paused as Santorelli began his phone call, and he soon realized that Santorelli was reporting the incident to the police. “Uh… Wh-Why would three people for three different military organizations be… whatever you’re doing in our high school.”

“DGSE is not military,” Gerard quickly informed him.

“We can’t tell you why, but we wanted that coyote,” said Berenson. “So, if you don’t mind, could you please let us know what happened after you entered the locker room?”

Kira nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Um, I ran behind the lockers there. I heard glass breaking. Then, I heard the coyote. It found me and growled at me, and I tried to back away. Scott grabbed me and pushed the lockers over on it.”

Berenson turned to Scott. “And you were here, because?”

“I, uh, heard the commotion,” Scott said. In truth, he’d heard her heartbeat, but he couldn’t tell that to two divisions of the armed forces and whatever the hell DGSE was.

“From the nurse’s office!” Kira said quickly. “Remember? I told you in the hall, I had two boys’ backpacks who got sick? That was him and Stiles.”

“Uh…” said Scott, not wanting to get in trouble when the military checked their story. “Actually, we didn’t go to the nurse’s office. He’s my best friend. He was having a panic attack. I took him to the bathroom, where it’s slightly colder and a lot quieter. I just… happened to be over this way.”

Berenson nodded. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said. Then, he turned back to Kira. “For future reference?” he said. “Don’t supply someone else’s story. It looks suspicious.”

Kira’s eyes widened, and she began to blush.

“Can we go now?” asked Scott.

“No,” Santorelli said. He was putting his phone away in his pocket again. “You’re going to have to tell it all again to the sheriff when he gets here. Berenson, Gerard, I want you out looking for that coyote.”

They each nodded in confirmation and moved to leave again, when something caught Gerard’s attention. She moved back toward the main door, where a black backpack had been torn open, revealing a baby doll inside. “Whose bag is this?” she asked.

“Uh…” Something wrenched in Scott’s stomach. Nothing about this was any kind of right. But he might make it worse by lying. “That’s… That’s Stiles’s.”

Gerard squinted at him. “Style?” she repeated. “I asked who?”

“I think it’s a name,” said Santorelli. Then, to Scott, “What’s the rest of it?”

“Uh, Stilinski,” said Scott.

“Stiles Stilinski?” Santorelli repeated, and Scott shrugged.

“It’s, uh… It’s actually…” He glanced at Kira. Taking the hint, she put her fingers in her ears. “It’s Stanisław Stilinski.”

Santorelli turned back to Berenson. “On your way out, have the office summon _Stiles_ Stilinski to the locker room,” he ordered, and Berenson nodded with a barely hidden smirk.

As they left, Scott heard Gerard whisper to Berenson, “Ça, c’est son gosse?”


	3. Canis latrans, pt 2

“Sah. Say. Sun. Gus,” Scott repeated as best he could about half an hour later in the Coach’s office where he and Stiles were being questioned again by the sheriff and Special Agent Berenson. Kira had been allowed to go back to class.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “One of us really needs to brush up on our French,” she said. “Probably both.”

“I’ve never taken French,” Scott said.

“Yeah, I can tell,” she told him.

The sheriff rubbed his temple wearily. “Okay, well, do you have at least a clue to what it means?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Jordan. “It would mean, ‘That. That’s his testicle.’”

Scott blushed deeply. “I probably heard wrong,” he said.

“Who are these people?” the sheriff asked Jordan.

“You’re still not cleared yet, and they _definitely_ aren’t,” Jordan reminded him, indicating Scott and Stiles. “But I can tell you that Santorelli is an Army Ranger, Berenson is with Air Force Space Command, and Gerard is a French spy.” She hesitated, sighed, then said, “And they’ve _all_ been unaccounted for for the past fifteen years.”

Scott was surprised by that. “They’re here for Marco?” he asked.

Jordan shook her head. “If they wanted Marco, they could just come get him,” she said. “Hell, they could have easily denied Vela’s release request. The only reason that went through is because they don’t want Marco to be _their_ problem.”

“So they’re here for the coyote?” said the sheriff. “For Malia. Why?”

Jordan shook her head again. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “They’re all with 3MP, which is simply a morphing school. It’s where you learn to do what Cassie and Marco do. It’s a NATO-run project. It’s just education and training; they don’t run missions. I suppose they could be under someone else’s orders, but together? It would have to be NATO. Besides, their uniforms still have NATO patches.”

“But NATO’s a military alliance, isn’t it?” asked Scott. “It’s just for discussing political things?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, they’ve been involved in joint military operations before,” he said. “For example, in 1999, they bombed Yugoslavia for three months without UN permission, despite the fact that Yugoslavia didn’t actually pose a threat to any of the member nations. It did get Yugoslavia out of Kosovo, but it’s been criticized.”

Jordan squinted at him. “That’s an odd thing for a boy your age to know about,” she said.

The sheriff shrugged. “He’s been fascinated by police and military operations since he was little,” he explained.

They were interrupted by commotion from the locker room. Scott’s head immediately perked up. “I think I hear Mr. Tate,” he said.

Jordan practically snarled. “What?” she demanded. She hurried out of Finstock’s office and back into the locker room.

“Where did you find that?!” Tate was yelling at Santorelli, who was holding the doll from Stiles’s backpack. He moved to grab the doll from Santorelli, but the sergeant quickly dodged out of the way with a confused expression. “It belongs to my daughter!”

“Who are you?” Santorelli demanded.

“Nicholas Tate,” the sheriff said, hurrying to them. Something flickered across Santorelli’s expression, but he pretended not to recognize the name, so the sheriff turned his attention to Tate. “Mr. Tate, I don’t know how you heard about this, if you’ve got your own police scanner or what, but you can’t be here.”

Tate jerked back as the sheriff moved to push him back through the door, but it was too late. The sheriff had felt the hard lump under his coat. “Stand still,” the sheriff ordered. He then pulled back the side of Tate’s coat to reveal a pistol in a hip holster.

“I have a permit,” said Tate.

“There are no permits that allow you to carry a firearm inside a California school,” said Jordan, stepping forward. She took Tate by the arm. “You’re gonna come with me, you’re gonna answer my questions, and then you’re gonna go home and never interfere with police business again. If you do not comply, then I will be forced to arrest you. Do you understand?”

“But that is… That is my little girl’s doll,” Tate insisted.

Jordan sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry the sight of this doll has cause you grief,” she said. “But it is a mass-produced plastic toy. It’s highly unlikely that it belongs to your child. Now come with me.” She started pulling him forcibly through the door.

“You find that animal!” Mr. Tate insisted angrily as he was pushed out against his will. “You find that _thing_!”

“Hey.” Tate and Jordan both turned to Santorelli, who held the doll out to Tate. Tate quickly snatched it, and Jordan quickly pushed him out of the door.

Scott and Stiles exchanged worried glances. Scott turned back toward Santorelli, but the man was gone. “Stiles, we _have_ to get Malia first,” he said. “Before someone hurts her.”

– –

“Xylazine,” said Deaton, entering the exam room of the veterinary clinic. “It’s a tranquilizer for horses. It _should_ work on your werecoyote. I only have these three doses.” He put them down on a table in front of Scott, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. “So whoever’s shooting needs to be a damn good shot.”

“Well, Allison’s a perfect shot,” said Scott.

“If she’s not tripping,” Erica corrected.

“She can do it,” Scott insisted.

“If we manage to find it,” said Isaac.

“The real question is what do we do after we find her?” said Boyd. “How do we convince her to turn back and go home to her dad?”

“She hasn’t been a girl for eight years,” Isaac pointed out.

“… I can do it,” Scott said quietly.

“You can?” Erica asked skeptically.

“One night, Peter trapped me and Stiles and Allison and Lydia and Jackson in the school,” Scott explained. “He was trying to make me kill them. He used his howl to make me turn.”

Deaton nodded. “Alphas do have the ability to command Betas,” he said. “But this is a _coyote_. Who knows if it’ll even work? And you’ve never commanded a beta before. You would need someone to teach you.”

Boyd heaved a sigh. “That’s why you’ve been trying to call Derek, isn’t it?” he said.

“I can try it on my own,” Scott insisted. “But right now… I’m still afraid I might lose control.”

“Braeden and I talked to you about that,” said Deaton.

“I know,” he said. “I know. But, just because you guys don’t think I would kill doesn’t mean it’s actually impossible.”

“So we need an experienced alpha,” said Isaac.

“Well, Derek and Peter and both betas now,” said Erica. “And we don’t know where they are.”

“Well, do I need someone who’s _currently_ an alpha?” Scott asked. “Maybe I could just… get someone to teach me?”

“Again, we don’t know where either are,” said Boyd.

Scott nodded. “I can think of someone.”

– –

When Scott pulled into a darkened parking lot to stop on his dirt bike, Isaac and Boyd pulled in behind him on motorcycles that had formerly belonged to the twins. Erica had gone on her own to take the tranquilizers to Allison. Scott decided not to discuss that fact, especially as Boyd angrily pulled off his helmet and gestured to the tall iron fence just across the road. “Tell me that’s not where we’re going,” groaned Boyd.

“Yeah, kinda?” said Scott.

“What?” said Isaac, glancing back and forth between the fence and Scott and Boyd. “What is it?”

“It’s a country club,” Boyd told him. He turned to Scott. “They’re never going to let us in the front door.”

Scott smirked and twisted his thumb toward the fence. “Does that look like the door to you?” he asked. “Eva said that they’re closed now, and she transforms in here all the time. She says she’ll meet me in the forest by the golf course.” He glanced down the road, then hurried over to the fence.

“I dunno, man,” said Boyd as he and Isaac followed Scott. “That seems kinda weird.”

“Weird,” Isaac agreed. “But potentially fun.”

Several minutes later, they were on the golf course and headed toward the forest that bordered it when they heard a growl. Pausing, the boys looked around. A large, black dog was crouched at the top of a small hill, and they could see its teeth glinting in the moonlight. They swallowed. Scott spread his hands. “Um… Nice doggie,” he said.

“Are you for real?” Boyd demanded.

That was when more growling started. Slowly, more and more dogs crested the hill, crouching and snarling. Scott held a hand out to signal Boyd and Isaac to freeze. “Dogs chase when you run. So just wait, and we’ll back–“

“ROWROWROWROWROWROWR!”

Isaac turned tail and ran. Swearing, Scott grabbed Boyd and ran after him. The dogs gave chase. The werewolves were fast, but these were guard dogs on their own turf, they weren’t going to give up easily. Isaac gave a high-pitched squeak when teeth grazed his heel. “Well, you started it!” Boyd shouted at him angrily.

“How does she transform here?!” Isaac demanded, pushing himself to run faster.

“She probably uses her will to dominate them,” Scott said. “I’ve done it at the clinic before.”

“What?!” Boyd demanded. “Then do it now!”

“That was when I was a beta!” Scott exclaimed. “What if I lose control?”

“Oh, for– How do _we_ do it?!” Boyd demanded.

“Uh, like… You stare them down,” said Scott. “Let it know it’s not the boss. You know… Like… Like Erica does with people!”

Isaac and Boyd looked back over their shoulders. Then at each other. “I really don’t think I can stop and concentrate on that before they eat me,” said Isaac, and Boyd shook his head in agreement.

Scott felt the scrape of teeth on the back of his heel. He wasn’t sure which group was going to tire first, and he didn’t know how much further they had to go until they reached the other fence.

“ROWROWROWROWROWROWR!”

He could swear he felt each bark against the back of his legs. This was ridiculous! He was supposed to be getting training, not chased around by guard dogs! If he could just get them to stop… He wanted them to stop…

Adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Scott acted on a wild impulse. He spun back around, dropped to all fours, and snarled, eyes bright red and commanding.

The pack of guard dogs stopped in their tracks. Surprisingly, however, they didn’t immediately roll over, the way Scott was used to. Instead, all seven sat on their rumps, grinned, and wagged their tails.

“They look like they’re waiting for a treat,” Boyd said, confused.

“That’s because they are,” said a new voice. The governor stepped out of the forest with a shit-eating grin, and tossed treats out to the dogs who eagerly gobbled them before returning to her side. “Nice eyes, mi conejito.”

Scott was overwhelmed by a mix of frustration, confusion, and fury. “Nice eyes?” he demanded. “ _Nice eyes_?! You sicced dogs on us!”

Eva clucked her tongue and crouched to pet one of the dogs, who immediately rolled over for belly rubs. The others immediately started nudging at her free arm and side, vying for her attention. “Rottweilers look scary, but they’re big babies,” she assured him. “In their minds, they were playing with you in exactly the way I’ve trained them to play with werewolves. If they’d reached you, they’d have only given you light nips.” She pulled another dog toward her and kissed it on the head.

“What was the point of this?” Boyd demanded. When she glanced up at him, he added, “Ma’am.”

Eva stood and clapped her hands. The dogs all sat at attention, eyes on her. “The point, Mr. Boyd, was making him lose control,” she said. She stepped toward Scott. “Being afraid of the only power you have won’t help you, Scott. Do you know how Cassie flies?”

“By turning into a bird,” said Scott.

“By turning into a bird and asking _it_ to fly,” said Eva. She reached out and touched his shoulder comfortingly. “You _know_ what to do. You just have to let yourself do it.”

“I still haven’t roared,” Scott said.

Eva smirked. “You will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: "Ça, c’est son gosse?" DOES mean "That's his testicle?" in Canadian French. Jeanne is speaking European French.


	4. Canis latrans, pt 3

“Do you think you can hone in on Malia?” asked Allison as Erica handed over the vials of tranquilizer in the Argent armory. “Because, if not, we’re going to be in the woods for a very long time.”

“Apparently, she peed on something on her way out of the locker room,” Erica said, making a face. “So… yeah.”

Allison snorted. She turned to pull down a gun from the rack. It didn’t quite look like the tranquilizer guns she’d seen when she’d searched for more information on their plan, but what did she know about guns? “Just as every human girl does,” Allison mocked.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is–“ Erica began, then amended, “Actually, I know _exactly_ what your problem is, but you signed up with our team, so either act like it or get the hell out and stop wasting our time. You can’t be half in and half out.”

“Maybe I feel halved,” Allison admitted quietly.

“Well, then ‘find yourself’,” Erica snapped. “Because you’re pissing everyone off.”

“Everyone?” Allison repeated, leaning forward and grinning up at her. “Or you?”

“What are you doing?” Erica asked suspiciously. She almost took a step back, but decided that gave the wrong impression. So she took a step forward to force Allison back.

Allison smirked again. “Getting the gun. Like you said,” she answered. She slung the gun over her shoulder and shoved the vials into her pockets.

“Don’t you have to like… load those into something?” Erica asked.

Allison gave her a patronizing smirk. “Now, Erica, which of us is the skilled hunter?” she asked in the voice and tone of a kindergarten teacher. With a cry of exasperation, Erica stormed out of the room. Which, of course, meant that she didn’t see Allison pull the vials out of her pocket and replace them with a box of bullets for the hunting rifle.

As she left the armory, she ran into Tyler. He looked her over curiously. “And where are _you_ headed?” he asked.

“Gonna shoot a coyote,” said Allison.

“A coyote?” Tyler repeated. “Bit beneath you isn’t it?”

“We hunt those who hunt us,” Allison reminded him. “And it’s attacking people.”

Tyler nodded but still seemed uncertain. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Have fun.”

Outside, Erica was waiting by Allison’s car. She extended her hand. “Give me the keys,” she told her.

“What? Why?” Allison demanded. “Do you even have a license?”

“Because your aunt might ‘visit’ again, and our plan falls through if you get in an accident,” Erica said, making a grasping motion. Allison sighed and tossed her the keys, getting into the passenger seat.

Several minutes later, they were at the reserve. “Hey, pull in over there,” Allison directed, pointing to a parking area ahead.

“That’s not the meeting area,” Erica argued, hands tightening on the wheel.

“It’s closer to the trails,” Allison told her. “Do you want to catch a coyote, or do you want to socialize?”

Growling, Erica pulled into the parking area.

– –

“A jogger on her early-morning run almost stepped right into this,” Jordan said, slamming the bear trap down on Tate’s dining table and making him jerk. “How many others are there?”

Tate looked up at her and then looked past her. She turned to see that he was looking toward a storage room. She nodded to the sheriff, and he immediately headed toward the room. “Now, hold on!” Tate started, getting up, but Jordan held him back.

“Berenson!” the sheriff called. “There’s maybe two dozen boxes back here.” He stepped out again, turning angrily toward Tate. “Some kid could get trapped in one of these! Some kid could die!”

“My kid died,” Tate whined pathetically.

“What, you think that makes it fair?” Jordan demanded. “You think just because you lost someone, you can tear the world apart on a vendetta? You think it’s gonna make you feel better? To have people dead and hospitalized so you can kill maybe one animal that probably isn’t even the right animal?”

Tate shook his head. “You don’t know what they’re like,” he whispered. “The wild animals.”

“You and me,” the sheriff said to Tate, “we’re going out there right now, and you’re going to disarm every single one. I don’t care if it takes all night!”

Huffing angrily, Tate glanced toward the door. His eyes slowly widened. Jordan and the sheriff both turned to see that the screen in the door had been torn. “It’s in the house,” Tate hissed.

“Stay there,” Jordan ordered, and she and the sheriff moved out into the house. A few moments later, they heard shots fired and ran out. But they were far too late to catch Tate or the coyote.

– –

Allison and Erica took off toward the sound of gunshots, but Erica was easily outpacing her. “Erica! Wait!” Allison called, but the werewolf was well ahead of her even as she pounded the dirt trail as hard as she could.

And then she saw it, and she grinned. “Erica! Go left!” she called.

Without even questioning it, Erica turned left to head into the woods, trusting that Allison had seen something. Almost immediately, she fell screaming to the ground as a bear trap snapped shut on her ankle. Allison jogged to a stop in front of her. “Allison, help!” she pleaded, already struggling to open the trap. “I can’t get it!”

“Sorry,” Allison laughed, pulling her rifle around in front of her. She then pulled two bullets out of her pocket and loaded them into the rifle right in front of Erica. “I’ve got a coyote to kill,” she said. She ran off, leaving Erica screaming on the ground behind her.

She didn’t have much further to run, however, before she saw Tate’s back. She came to a halt, raising the rifle against her shoulder and taking aim. But she couldn’t sight the coyote. Tate and the trees blocked her view. She hissed in frustration, but she supposed his gun was as good as hers.

Suddenly, the rifle was ripped out of her hands, and the butt was swung hard into her face. She hit the ground. Dizzy and confused, she stared ahead as someone in green did the same to Tate. She heard the clicks of her rifle being unloaded and turned over onto her back. “Y-you!” she panted in shock.

Jake Berenson looked down at her, confused. “Me?” he said.

A voice over Jake’s radio called, “Porosus Beta, this is Alces Alces. Come in.” The green person was talking into a radio. Despite the fact that there was no audible reply, the voice returned, “This is Alces Alces. I’m with Tigris Altaica. We have Tate and an unidentified female. We have lost the coyote. Over.” Again, there was a pause with no reply, to which the voice answered, “This is Alces Alces. Roger. Out.”

Overhead, a huge bird flew past, in the direction the coyote must have gone. Some kind of vulture, maybe, but not one that seemed familiar to Allison. “You did it,” she gasped. “You made more…”

Jake looked down at her suspiciously. “Who are you?” he asked.

Allison snickered, her smile bloody. “I’m my grandmother’s child,” she laughed.

“What’s going on over there?” ‘Alces Alces’ called from over by Tate.

“I think I hit her too hard,” Jake called back.

“Can she stand?” Alces Alces called back.

Jake bent over her and held three fingers over her face. “How many fingers?” he asked. When she told him three, he started waving them back and forth in front of her face. “Can you track them?” She followed them from side to side with her gaze. “Awesome,” said Jake. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

“Hurry,” said the other, pulling Tate to his feet. “We need to rendezvous with Bonnie as soon as she locates the target so we can establish jurisdiction _before_ your cousin gets there.”

“We’re not gonna check out the screaming girl?” Jake asked, pointing back in the direction of Erica.

“Not our problem,” said Alces Alces. “There’s only–”

“ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!”

Everyone turned, stunned, toward the sound. Jake and Alces Alces exchanged glances, dropped Allison and Tate, and took off toward the sound. Allison stayed there for a moment, on her knees, trying to get her bearings and pull her head together. Finally, as Tate also began to wander off in the direction that Jake had gone, she grabbed up her gun and headed back toward the car.

– –

As soon as Malia was forced to transform back into a human, Scott immediately regretted the decision. Partly, it was because she was buck naked. Soon, it was because she was buck naked with an audience.

The woman from the locker room, Agent Gerard, dropped down from God-knows-where only a few yards from them, now wearing a morphing outfit nearly identical to Cassie’s except for the military identification patches, including the blue and white compass logo that Scott now knew to belong to NATO. She took a moment to look over the situation before stepping forward.

“NOT ONE MORE STEP!” Special Agent Berenson cried as she ran toward them from the distance. She had her gun out and aimed at Agent Gerard. “MCCALL! SECURE THE GIRL!”

“Uh… Secure as in give her a blanket?” he asked, confused. He was trying to ease his way over to Malia, but Jordan screaming at Gerard wasn’t really easing his mind that Malia wouldn’t bolt at a moment’s notice.

Jordan caught up to them and rolled her eyes. “Give her your jacket, _then_ secure her,” she said, her gun still leveled at Gerard’s head. Looking somewhat nervous, Gerard decided to raise her hands.

“Hey!” Behind Scott, Santorelli and Jake were quickly approaching. It was Santorelli who had called out. “This is NATO jurisdiction! You are ordered to stand down!”

“I have yet to see credentials from _any_ of you,” Jordan countered. Behind her, Isaac and Boyd had finally caught up to Scott, but had decided to hang back from the group until they knew what was going on.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Jordan, come on,” he said. “You know exactly who we are and who we work for.”

“I know exactly who you were and worked for fifteen years ago,” Jordan said. “And then you all disappeared and were pronounced dead. So until I see an updated file–“

“I wasn’t pronounced dead,” Jake pointed out.

“C-can I just give her my jacket?” Scott asked with a pleading tone, feeling sorry for the naked teenager crouched on the forest floor whose expression was slowly transforming from confusion to anger.

“What’s going on?” They all turned to see Mr. Tate approaching cautiously. Malia turned to face him. Her expression was… complicated. Behind Mr. Tate, the governor was jogging up with a bundle in her arm.

“Actually, if you’ll give me a moment, and grant this girl her privacy, I believe we can settle this fairly quickly,” Eva said. “Mr. Tate, would you mind holding up this blanket for her?” she asked, joining him and holding out her bundle. Confused, Tate took the blanket off the top of the stack, revealing the rest to be clothes and shoes. He unfolded it and held it up in front of the girl, being sure to keep his eyes elsewhere. Behind Scott, Lydia and Stiles finally joined the group, supporting a limping Erica.

Eva stepped behind it, whispered some assurances to the girl and helped her get dressed in sweatpants, a sweatshirt, soft socks, and sneakers. She then took the blanket from Mr. Tate and wrapped it around her. “Alright, Mr. Tate,” she said. “Now, I want you to turn to this girl and look hard at her. Do you think you’ve seen her before?”

Confused, Tate turned to her. He studied the girl’s face carefully. Then, slowly, his eyes widened. “M-Malia?” he gasped.

Malia smiled.

“And with _that_ , it becomes the jurisdiction of _none_ of you,” said Eva. “It’s now a matter for Mr. Tate, here, and the Department of Children’s Services.”

“You’re the one that’s been tipping him off about the coyote,” Jordan snarled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eva said with a smirk. “This is a lost girl, not Romulus or Remus.”

“He put bear traps in an wildlife reserve and ran out here with a firearm!” Jordan exclaimed, only becoming more heated. Santorelli whispered something to Gerard, but she only shrugged.

“Which _is_ the jurisdiction of local and federal law enforcement and something for DCS to take into consideration,” said Eva. She waved a hand toward the Tates. “But it does not negate his current custody rights.”

“We’ll be heading on,” Santorelli told them as Jake and Gerard moved away, still glancing back at the group suspiciously.

“ _Nope_ ,” Jordan snapped, hurrying after them. “You are coming with me. _You_ , at least, I still have the jurisdiction to get answers on.”

Santorelli rolled his eyes but nodded to his companions that they should follow her. She lead them away from the scene, and Eva turned to the Tates. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll help you home.” She began to guide them away, then turned to Scott. “You should probably get Erica to the clinic,” she said carefully, knowing a hospital was nowhere for a werewolf, but not wanting to publicly tell her to go to a vet. “Then look into the Argent matter?”

Scott watched her go, then turned to his friends. “What Argent matter?” he said. “Where’s Allison?”

“She took off,” said Erica. “Scott, she tricked me. She brought a hunting rifle instead of a tranquilizer gun. She tricked me into running into the bear trap so she could get to Malia first. She told me that she was going to kill her.”

Scott shook his head. “No, Allison wouldn’t–”

“Allison has been doing a lot of things that Allison wouldn’t do lately,” Boyd pointed out.

“I’m not a liar,” Erica snarled.

“Scott…” Lydia said carefully, her hand tightening slightly on Erica’s waist. She wasn’t really looking at either of them, and when she spoke again, her voice was strained and quiet. “I think, maybe, it’s time to admit that Allison’s loyalty has always been foremost with her family. And now they’re tighter than ever. God knows what they’re teaching her now. I mean, the way she’s begun to think of her grandmother lately?”

“But Agrona likes me,” said Scott.

“So did Gerard,” Stiles pointed out. “As long as he could see a use for you.”

“She still considers herself a hunter,” said Isaac. “A hunter of werewolves. If she was really on our side, why would she keep that up?”

Scott looked at the ground and nodded guiltily. The whole idea of an Allison who could hate and murder his friends made him feel sick. He thought he knew her better than that, but… Did he really? Derek had thought he’d known Kate better…

He nodded again. “Alright,” he agreed. “Alright. Allison’s out.”

And then Lydia screamed again. Briefly. Like a hiccup of terror and grief. Erica nearly fell as she clamped her hands over her ears. “Lydia, what the _hell_?” Stiles demanded, grappling with Erica as Boyd hurried over to help. “We still haven’t found the body from _last_ time!”

“I… I don’t know,” she gasped, eyes wide. “It doesn’t… _feel_ like the others. I don’t know what it means.”

“How does it feel different?” asked Isaac, eying her curiously.

“It…” Lydia shivered in horror. “It feels like I’m falling apart. Literally. Piece by piece.”


End file.
